


Occupational Hazard

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, matt is a terrible liar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: Matt is no stranger to getting stabbed, but he does find it unusual that it happened in court this time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this prompt: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8423.html?thread=17215463#cmt17215463  
> And the occupational hazard square of my Daredevil bingo (which I'm pretty sure is over, but I also wrote this a year ago, so shush)

Matt didn't know how he didn't notice it coming, but he didn't, and that was perhaps the part that was throwing him off the most.

That, and the fact that someone had managed to get a knife into an active courtroom. What was it, ceramic or something to get past the metal detectors? He kind of wanted to find out.

Of course, the knife was still in him, and he knew well enough to not pull it out and check.

 

The bailiff had attacked the man who stabbed him as soon as someone screamed. (It was Foggy. Foggy screamed, and for a second, Matt was concerned he was hurt. Then he felt the blood and realized there was a knife in his side.)

 

“Sir, sit down, there are paramedics on their way. They'll take you to the hospital.”

Someone pushed him back into his seat and there was a pair of hands pressing some sort of fabric to his side, staunching the blood flow.

“That's not necessary, I feel fine,” Matt mumbled. The case was definitely going their way, and he didn't want to miss it or make a big deal out of anything.

“There's a knife sticking out of you,” the person who was holding pressure said with disbelief. Matt couldn't place the voice, but was sure he knew it.

“He's obviously in shock,” Foggy said loudly.

“I'll just take a brief recess and clean it up in the washroom,” Matt said, some part of him knowing it was completely absurd, and yet like it could be a good idea. He tried to get to his feet.

Foggy held his shoulders to keep him in his seat.

“Counsellor, I am not having you bleed to death in my court room. Stop resisting or I'll hold you in contempt.”

Matt recognized the voice now. It was the judge.

Well, if she insisted.

 

He slouched in the chair a bit, the pain catching up with him.

“Ow,” he hissed.

“Yep, stab wounds tend to hurt,” the judge told him.

“How would you know?” he grumbled.

He felt like she gave him a look, but couldn't be sure.

Foggy definitely rolled his eyes though.  

 

There was noise behind him, and it was then he realized the courtroom had been cleared out except for them and a few others, probably a bailiff and the prosecution, and that the noise was the paramedics arriving.

 

“This is Matt,” Foggy told them. “His pulse is fast, but his breathing has been okay. He's also completely blind, with no light perception.”

Matt hadn't even noticed Foggy holding onto his wrist, but he supposed he had more important things to concern himself with.

The gurney clattered up beside him and he forced himself to try and focus on the people around him. One of the medics was younger, with curly hair.

“Hey Matt,” she said, kneeling down next to him. “I'm Liz. We're going to take you to the hospital okay? Does anything hurt besides your side?”

He shook his head.

“Great. You let me know if anything changes, if you have trouble breathing or if you think you might pass out. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Like a bother. Do you know how long this will take? I don't want to miss court tomorrow.”

The judge scoffed at him. “Murdock, if you step back in my courtroom within a week, I'll hold you in contempt. Don't think I won't.”

She wasn't lying.

Matt huffed a little sigh, and it used his abdominal muscles, which protested the movement, seeing as how they were currently still under assault from a knife. He winced.

“Okay, let's get the knife stabilized, a monitor hooked up, and get him ready for transport.”

“Do you want O2?” the other paramedic asked.

“Yeah. He's not having any trouble breathing, but let's get him on some with a nasal cannula. I think he'll be an easy stick, but I'd rather get him transported than take the time to try and get a line in him. I can do that on the drive.”

“Okay. Hey Matt, I'm going to give you some extra oxygen-”

“Don't want it,” he grumbled.

“Matt,” Foggy warned.

“Hey, it's okay if you really don't want it, but I think it could help you feel better. Do you think you could give it a try?”

Matt reconsidered. “Fine,” he conceded.

He turned his attention back to the female medic, who was packing the knife with large wads of gauze to keep it stabilized. She enlisted the help of the judge to hold it while she taped it down.

 

By the time she had that done, the other medic had managed to loop tubing around Matt's ears without him noticing and also stick a probe on his finger. Clearly he was suffering from the blood loss if he hadn't noticed.

 

“You still with us Matt?”

He nodded.

“We're going to move you over to the stretcher now.”

“Oh, okay.”

He made a move to get up, but Foggy held his shoulders down.

“Clearly you weren't listening,” he said firmly. “You're not doing the moving, they are.”

“You just sit there Matt, we'll do the work for you.”

Matt wondered if he was losing time, if he was really missing pieces of conversations, or if his concentration was just so bad he kept forgetting about them.

Either way, he was kind of concerned.

 

As he thought that, he realized he was on the gurney, the medics pulling straps over him. He panicked, resisting, and they both pressed hands to him. Nitrile gloves. Why that was what he focused on, he had no clue.

“Hey, it's okay. Just relax. We're going to strap you in to keep you safe for the ride and get you a blanket in case you're going into shock.”

 

 _I'm not in shock,_ he tried to say, but his lips didn't cooperate.

 

He probably faded again, because the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, sirens the only thing he could hear.

He panicked for a moment, before he remembered that there was still a knife sticking out of him, and that panicking would not be good.

There was a prick in his arm and a cool rush. One of the medics must have put an IV in.

The tubing on his face was also replaced with a mask at some point, and it made him feel like he was trapped. Between that and the straps holding him down, he was getting claustrophobic and ready to bolt.

If he could move, since he seemed to be a bit trapped, surely by something more than just the pathetic straps, since on his best day, they would be no match for him.

 

Of course, it really wasn't his best day.

 

He faded back in sometime in the ER, and there were a lot more people milling around him. None of them were talking to him, just over him, and he was kind of insulted before remembering he hadn't exactly been conscious.

 

“Foggy?” he muttered.

“Matt, can you hear me?” someone asked him, loudly.

He winced. Of course he could hear them. He heard them and his own heart beating and the heartbeat of the fetus two rooms over. He heard construction three blocks away and horns blaring as they tried to pass each other in the New York traffic. He heard people crying two floors up and someone coding in a nearby wing. He heard all of it.

“Matt, can you squeeze my hands?” someone else asked him, and there were gloved hands in his. He squeezed, mostly to get rid of the feeling of them on his skin.

“Good, that's good.”

 

He faded for another moment, but it might not have been long, since he was woken abruptly by someone kneading his sternum with their knuckles.

 

He groaned.

“Sorry, need you awake for another minute. They're taking you to surgery. The ultrasound showed some internal bleeding, but the trauma surgeon thinks it missed everything vital, which is very lucky. Next time you wake up, you'll probably be in recovery, but if you have any questions before then, don't hesitate to ask.”

“Foggy?” he mumbled.

“The friend you came in with? He's been very worried about you, pacing around the waiting room. He signed the consents for the surgery, since he's your next of kin, and we've been keeping him updated. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear you were asking about him.”

“Can I see him?” The words stumble over each other on their way out, and he only hoped that whoever he was talking to understood.

“Oh, sorry dear, we're already on our way to surgery. He'll be there when you wake up, alright?”

“'kay,” Matt managed, and then he was drifting again, this time for good.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Let me get this straight,” Foggy said, as Matt opened his eyes and struggled to remember what was going on. “You get stabbed while in court, and think that you'll just finish up or take a recess to patch yourself up in the bathroom, _and_ actually tell that to the judge. I mean, honestly, I wouldn't put it past you because I know you, but to say that out loud like it was an actual plan was stupid. I'll let you have it cause you were probably going into shock, but for future reference, that's not something you say to anyone, but especially not a judge.”

“What?” Matt managed to say. He was still trying to decipher what Foggy had said. He'd heard all the sounds, and it was definitely English, it was just grasping the understanding of them that he was struggling with.

Oh, he was definitely on the good drugs.

Foggy sighed and made a noise. Matt had no clue what it was. Another sign that he was on the good stuff- he couldn't track Foggy in the room. His senses were all over the place, bouncing from the street below to rooms down the hall.

 

Hospital. He was in the hospital.

Which explained the drugs.  

 

Wait. Foggy said that he'd been stabbed? _In court?_

No wonder he was having a hard time making sense of it all. Who would stab Matt Murdock? He'd understand Daredevil getting stabbed, but as Matt the lawyer, it made less sense.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

“You were stabbed,” Foggy said slowly.

“Yeah, but why?”

“A former not client of ours.”

“What?”

“Someone we turned down as a client was apparently angry that we didn't defend him. Hence the stabbing you. I guess he was going for me next, but the bailiff took care of him.”

“In... court?” Matt said. He was still confused.

“I know, right. There are so many easier places he could have stabbed us. Like literally anywhere. He did seem a little bit out of it when we met him, so maybe he's not exactly compos mentis.”

“Was it ceramic?” Matt asked. It was important, although he couldn't remember why.

“What? The knife? Yeah, how did you know?”

“I was thinking about that,” Matt said, remembering now. “After he stabbed me. Cause he'd have had to go through the metal detectors. Not metal, not detected.”

“Dude, you're weird,” Foggy said. Matt thought it was fondly.

“So, I'm not dead, I guess.”

“Good observation. Yeah, you lost a lot of blood, hence you going into shock pretty quickly, but nothing major was damaged.” He paused. “I think. Honestly I don't remember. But you're alive, so that's good, right?”

“Right,” Matt agreed.

“However... they are gonna ask you a lot of questions about your scars, so maybe come up with a good story for later, okay?”

Matt nodded, already drifting off again, both the pain and Foggy's voice growing more distant under a haze of drugs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was better the next time he awoke. It didn't take him as long to remember what had happened. The haze of drugs wasn't as thick, which was good, because shortly after he awoke, a doctor came in.

 

“Mr Murdock,” he said. “It's good to see you awake.”

Apparently Matt had already met him while unconscious, which he obviously didn't remember.

“I'm the trauma surgeon who performed the surgery on you. It went well, and despite your initial blood loss, you're progressing rapidly in your recovery. You were very fortune that the blade missed nearly everything vital. Your only injuries were to your liver, which is a miraculous organ in that it can regenerate itself, so you don't have to worry about it. The blade also nearly severed your hepatic vein, which is the main vein leaving the liver, and is what caused all your bleeding. We repaired that without needing to take a vein from your leg to repair it. Like I said, you were very lucky. Your post-op course should be relatively smooth, barring any complications like infection.”

“When will I be discharged?” Matt asked.

The doctor laughed. “Eager to get out of here already, huh? Can't say I blame you. Well, you went from recovery to a step down unit, which is where you are now, but you'll be moved to a regular floor shortly. It shouldn't be more than a couple of days, but we'll have to see how things progress. If your pain is managed with oral medications, and you don't have any signs of infection, you shouldn't have to stay too long. Anything else you want to know?”

Matt shook his head.

“Good. You should be moved shortly, and I'm sure you'll be up and moving about within the hour. It may hurt, but it speeds healing and prevents all sorts of complications, so try not to complain too much, alright?”

The doctor might have winked. Matt wasn't sure. Didn't the man know he was blind? Or perhaps he was one of the few who knew that most people who were blind weren't completely blind.

He was gone before Matt could ask, and that was probably for the best, since the drugs were loosening his tongue and clouding his judgment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he awoke it was to a police officer and a social worker, which he only figured out after they introduced themselves.

Well, the police officer was Brett Mahoney, so that helped, but he had no clue about the social worker.

 

“Mr Murdock, I'm here to get your statement about what happened.”

“I was stabbed,” Matt said. He thought that was fairly obvious.

“Of course, but is there anything else you can tell us? Anything you remember?”

“Like what?”

“Do you know the person who attacked you?” the social worker asked.

Matt frowned. “Foggy told me it was someone who we turned down as a client, but I don't really remember him that well.”

“Did he say anything to you in the courtroom, do anything else at all?”

“I don't really remember,” Matt said honestly.

“That's fine Matt. We have your partner's statement, as well as a few dozen witnesses who were in the courtroom at the time. This is more a formality than anything else.”

He didn't leave though.

“Was there anything else?” Matt asked.

Brett stepped back, and the social worker moved closer. “While you were in the emergency room and surgery, it was noticed that you have a number of scars and injuries, all at different stages of healing.”

Right. Foggy had warned him he'd have to be prepared for that.

Matt didn't offer anything, waiting for her to ask a question.

“Is someone hurting you Matthew?” she finally pressed, clearly not going to get an answer otherwise.

“No one is hurting me,” he sighed.

“How can you explain all these scars and injuries then?” she asked.

 _Occupational hazard,_ Matt didn't say, even though it could be true for both of his occupations.

“It's a rough neighbourhood. I get mugged a lot. People think I'm an easy target. You know, because I'm blind,” he added.

“Are there police reports of these incidences?” she asked, writing something down. Her pen scratched against the paper.

“Ah, no. I tend not to file them, since they wouldn't be of much use. I can't identify them, so it would just be a waste of everyone's time,” he explained.

“I'm sure that's not true,” she said diplomatically. Behind her, Brett didn't say anything. He and Matt both knew about the difficulties the police department had been having since half the department had been arrested for being in Fisk's pocket. They were stretched thin.

Not that it was his actual reason, but it was certainly a good excuse. It was a lot better, for multiple reasons, than telling them he was a vigilante.

They'd probably just laugh.

 

“Matthew, if someone is hurting you, we can help. There are programs for adults in abusive relationships-”

“I'm not being abused,” he cut her off. “And if that is all, I'd like to rest.”

By the door, Brett shifted. “I think we're done here,” he said. “If you remember anything else, don't hesitate to call.”

Matt nodded. “I will.”

Brett led the social worker out, who was still not completely satisfied with Matt's answers, and likely would never be. Matt hoped she'd let it go and focus her attention on someone who actually needed her help.

As soon as they left, Foggy slipped in.

“Did you hear much of that?” Matt asked him. He should have been able to tell, hearing Foggy's heartbeat outside the door, but he hadn't been paying attention. Stupid drugs.

“All of it. I especially liked the part where you milked the blindness for all it was worth. I'm willing to bet you looked extra pathetic during that part.”

“I'm in a hospital. That adds extra pathetic points without even trying.” He paused. “Do you think they bought it?”

Foggy shrugged. “Brett seemed satisfied, and if I'm going to be honest, social services is always stretched thin, so you're probably okay on that front as well.”

“That's awful,” Matt said quietly.

“Yeah. But that's what it is. Even you can't fix everything Matt.”

 

He sat down next to Matt. “So the nurse mentioned you'll probably be getting out of here soon.”

“When the surgeon visited, he said I'd be moved to a regular ward.”

“Yeah, that happened yesterday buddy. You were awake for a bit of it, but really out of it, so I guess it's not unreasonable you don't remember.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Matt frowned. “And I've been here since...”

“Monday.”

“So... it's been like three days. Time to go home yet?” he asked hopefully.

“Considering you had no clue where you were, maybe not.”

Matt scowled. “All hospital rooms are the same. It's not my fault.”

He swore Foggy rolled his eyes, even though that wasn't something he could distinguish at the best of times.

“Probably at least another day before they'll spring you,” Foggy told him. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah. I don't like hospitals, but I know when I need to be in one,” he said, giving Foggy a look.

“Could have fooled me, the way you were acting in court.”

“Shock,” he said firmly.

“Sure. And then it will be a bit longer before you can get back to... work,” he said, adding extra emphasis to the last word.

“I know my limits Foggy,” he sighed, hiding the wince as it put a strain on stitches. I think I could probably go back to court on Monday though,” he said thoughtfully.

“Seriously? That's what you remember about this experience? That if you went back within the week you'd be sent away, but more than a week, you think you're good. Yeah, that sounds just about right. You know there's nothing wrong with taking time off, with being hurt and recovering? It's not weakness.”

“Of course I do,” Matt told him, but in the back of his mind, Stick reminded him about how the soft things would strangle him.

 

He might have drifted for a minute, and when he got back, Foggy was sighing at him. “I'll be back tomorrow. You get some rest, okay? We'll see about when they're springing you and then maybe we'll talk about work, but for now, rest. Got it?”

Matt nodded. He fell asleep less than half an hour after Foggy left, despite his attempts not to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Foggy returned, as promised, and the two of them set out in search of a cup of coffee that didn't come from a vending machine.

 

Matt had also been forced to get up a few times, which was painful, not like he expected otherwise. But now at least Foggy was walking with him. They'd meandered down to the first floor, where emerg, the cafeteria, and the gift shop was located. The coffee in the cafeteria honestly wasn't much better than it was out of the vending machines, but Matt was desperately happy with the change of scenery.

 

He'd also gotten the good news that morning that he would be going home the next day. The surgeon had proclaimed his incision healing well, and had discharged him from his service. The nurse would be showing him wound care that afternoon, but it was nothing that Matt hadn't done a thousand times before.

 

He'd been eating and drinking and wasn't even taking any of the painkillers. Matt honestly didn't know why they wouldn't let him go home that day, but wasn't going to argue it, not with Foggy lecturing him about taking care of himself.

 

He still tired surprisingly quickly, and Foggy seemed to recognize that, returning him to his bed before the lunch rush even started.

 

“I've got some things to do this afternoon,” he told Matt, his heart jumping. Lie. “Get some rest. I'll be back to pick you up tomorrow, but only if you still have the all clear.”

“Movie night tomorrow?” Matt asked, stifling a yawn. “When I get home.”

Foggy scoffed. “If you're home, then sure. We'll have a movie night. Not that you'll be conscious for it, but that only means I get to pick the movie, so I guess that makes it all the better for me.”

Matt couldn't hold back the yawn this time, and they both knew it.

“Get some rest okay,” Foggy said. “I'll be back tomorrow, and hopefully they'll let you loose.”

Matt nodded, already drifting off, making plans for court.

Maybe he'd even wait until Wednesday before going back to work.

 


End file.
